No More Nightmares
by Scallisaac
Summary: Months after the final battle with Gerard and the kanima, Isaac has moved in with the McCall family and has become closer to Scott ever before. When Allison finally snaps, taking a hand out of Kate Argent's book, it's up to Isaac to save him. Suddenly, the lines between protector and victim are blurred as these two boys find comfort in each other in their times of need.


**Warnings:** Some violence/mentions of (nongraphic) torture, slash pairing, slightly psychotic Allison Argent  
**Summary:** Months after the final battle with Gerard and the kanima, Isaac has moved in with the McCall family and has become closer to Scott ever before. When Allison finally snaps and kidnaps Scott, taking a hand out of Kate Argent's book, it's up to Isaac to save him. Suddenly, the lines between protector and victim are blurred as these two boys find comfort in each other in their times of need.  
**Author's Notes:** I wrote this a while ago for a fic exchange, after season 2 ended and way before season 3 started, so bear with me here and just keep that in mind! I love Allison with all my heart, she's awesome and one of my favorite characters, but for the purposes of this story I kind of made her a bit psycho.

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_She's using you._

Scott groaned and buried his head into his pillow as Isaac's words drifted through his mind. He loved Allison. She was the first person to come into his life, besides his mother and Stiles, who he had truly loved—and who had returned his feelings. They had been through so much together, and had remained strong through it all. She had been his strength, his _anchor_, and he had been hers. He had no reason to doubt that his relationship with her was anything but perfect.

So then why was that simple statement, that _stupid_, simple statement bothering him so much? Isaac had muttered it under his breath earlier that week, when Scott had trudged through the door of their home looking considerably more gloomy and dejected than usual. He might not have even intended for Scott to actually hear him.

But he had, and now he couldn't seem to get those words out of his head. Because, if he was being honest with himself, his relationship with Allison was really anything but perfect. Sure, they gave off the appearance of being the ideal, happy couple that they always had been, but…something was different. Allison hadn't quite been the same since her mother's death.

Obviously, he didn't expect her to be over it already. He didn't really expect her to ever be over it. Just as Stiles, behind his happy-go-lucky attitude, really had never gotten over his mother's death. Just like Isaac, despite the constant abuse he suffered at the man's hands, still hadn't gotten over his father's murder. Hell, just like Scott himself had never really gotten over his father abandoning him and his mother all those years ago. One could never truly recover from losing a parent- such damage was permanent.

And yet…and yet it wasn't simply a matter of being upset or depressed or miserable- Allison had changed. Her darker side had been unveiled in those terrible weeks after her mother died, when she had sworn revenge upon Derek Hale, vowing to show no mercy to anyone who got in her way, innocent or not. She had been blinded by grief and hatred and a burning desire to make someone, anyone, pay for her mother's death, and she had allowed herself to be brainwashed by her double-crossing grandfather, Gerard.

Since the mess between the kanima, Gerard, Lydia and Jackson had finally reached its crescendo and Scott's master plan had finally worked out, since Gerard had ordered the kanima to nearly kill his own granddaughter, since they had shared that brief but profound moment back at her house, Scott had fooled himself into believing that Allison had returned to being her old self.

He had loved her, he _still _loved her, but something vital had changed. There was a look that he'd sometimes catch in her eyes, a look he was sure he wasn't meant to see, that was a little bit…dangerous.

Originally, Scott had been ecstatic when Allison had come up to him at school with a shy smile gracing her features, claiming that she wanted to get back together after weeks of "having her space," that she couldn't bear to be away from him any longer, and that she still loved him. He had taken her back with open arms, barely registering the cool glint of success that appeared in her hooded eyes at his reaction, writing it off as a trick of his imagination as it was gone as quickly as it had come.

But that look, that cold and calculating look, he'd still catch in her eyes sometimes. It worried him, and, quite frankly, scared him. He longed to be able to see into her mind, to find out what she was really thinking behind that distant and guarded look. Did she know something he didn't? Did she no longer love him? Was she _planning_ something?

Isaac had proposed the idea to him many times already, every time Scott would return home from spending time with Allison confused and upset and frustrated beyond belief. He had continued to shrug Isaac's words, the whole "_she's using you"_ idea, off as being paranoid but…he had to admit, it seemed more and more likely with each passing day.

But using him for _what_?

The sound of the door to his room creaking open jolted Scott out of his troubled musings. He lifted his head up from his pillow and gave a tired nod to Isaac in greeting. Taking one look at his friend's slumped shoulders and the weary look in his eyes, Isaac sighed and gave Scott a rueful, I-told-you-so kind of smirk.

"Allison?" Isaac questioned exasperatedly, already knowing what Scott's response would be. Scott didn't even bother to answer; he merely groaned and hid his face in the pillow again. He liked Isaac being here—he really did, but right now he was feeling as though he would rather be alone.

After all the chaos surrounding the past few months had wound down, there still remained plenty of problems to be dealt with, like readjusting to normal life and carrying on as if everything would be okay. As everyone else was busy getting back into their daily routines, Isaac had been busy trying to find somewhere, _anywhere_ to stay. His bastard of a father was dead. With no family left to turn to, he was forced to face the terrible truth: he was an orphan. And he was completely alone.

At first, he had been somewhat content with travelling around with Derek, investigating the strange appearance of the new "Alpha pack." But while he knew that Derek was a good guy at heart, he wasn't exactly the best company when he was focused on figuring something out. What Isaac needed was a friend, someone who he could really talk to and relate to and just relax around, and Derek wasn't exactly a compassionate, friendly kind of guy. Isaac cringed at the thought of pouring out his heart to the sullen, hardened sourwolf.

And, to be honest, Isaac just wanted to return to some semblance of normalcy, as he enviously watched Scott, Stiles, Allision, Lydia and Jackson return to school and resume with their daily lives as if nothing had happened. Isaac wanted to graduate, he wanted to eventually be able to put all the traumatizing events of his life behind him, and most of all, he just wanted to be a regular teenager.

He had grown close to Scott during the whole ordeal with the kanima, closer than he had ever been with anyone in his life before. For the first time in his life, someone had cared about him, had been concerned about him getting hurt, had protected him in a time of need. Isaac imagined that it was what it must feel like to have a protective older brother, or perhaps a best friend. He didn't kid himself into thinking that Scott considered him his best friend when he had Stiles, who was funny and sarcastic and who everyone seemed to love, and who Scott had known all his life.

But for Isaac, who before receiving the bite from Derek had been the "weird kid" who wore battered old clothes, who frequently came to school sporting a black eye or broken bones, who never talked and who ate lunch alone, he was just grateful that Scott considered him a friend at all. Needless to say, he was shocked when Scott had sought him out, with genuine concern in his eyes, to ask him where he was staying. When Isaac confessed that he really didn't have anywhere to go, Scott had immediately gone home and explained the situation to his mother.

Before he even knew what was going on, before his brain could even process the fact that it was truly happening, Mrs. McCall was welcoming him into their home. The next few months had passed by in a daze, in a wonderful blur of shy smiles and unfamiliar feelings of warmth and acceptance. He still had trouble accepting the fact that he was really living with Scott, and that he finally had a family—he couldn't possibly thank Scott and Mrs. McCall enough for taking him in. Scott was equally as happy to have him there.

It wasn't for the first time, however, as Isaac walked into their now shared bedroom and sat down on the bed across from his that Scott felt a pang of annoyance towards the other boy.

He supposed it was natural, seeing as they had spent the past few months together, cooped up in the same house, attending the same classes, and going to the same lacrosse practice. They were bound to get fed up with each other once in a while, and they had certainly had their fair share of petty squabbles already.

And at the moment, he really, _really_ didn't feel like discussing his love life with Isaac. For some reason, Isaac's knowing and slightly accusatory tone only served to further incense his foul mood.

"Scott, seriously, you're clearly not happy. Trust me, you'd be doing yourself a favor if you just broke up with her and moved on, you know? You said yourself that it hasn't been the same ever since…you know…" Isaac trailed off and looked at Scott expectantly, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking half-confident in what he was saying and half as if he were just afraid of being yelled at. If he had learned anything in the past few months of living with Scott, it was that the boy definitely had a temper.

Sure enough, Scott sat up on his bed and shot Isaac a withering glare. "It's none of your damn business, anyway," he growled contemptuously.

Isaac merely shrugged his shoulders and did his best not to betray the hurt he felt from his friend's uncharacteristic animosity. "Look Scott, I really don't care if you want to talk to me about it or not. But I'm getting kind of tired of these shitty mood swings you get after every time you hang out with Allison. So either stop sulking around all the time or do something about it."

Scott opened his mouth angrily, as if about to argue, only to deflate a moment later and slump his shoulders in defeat before any retort could escape his lips. He fell back onto his bed with a long-suffering sigh. "You're right. I'm hopeless," he mumbled, burying his face in his hands. "Sorry for being such an asshole lately. It's just…it's just complicated. I really don't want to talk about it." In truth, Scott knew that 'complicated' didn't even begin to describe what his and Allison's relationship had come to, but he supposed it would have to do.

Isaac's gaze softened and he offered a tentative smile to his friend. "It's fine. How about you get some sleep though? We've got a big game tomorrow and we're both going to need the rest. Besides, you look like hell anyway. Who knows? Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

_That's likely_, Scott thought sarcastically. If he was already hung up thinking about Allison now, she'd most likely be starring in his dreams again too. Except it wouldn't be the good type of dream—it would be the kind of dream where she was just out of his reach, where her back was turned to him, where no matter what he did, no matter what he said, he couldn't reach her. More often than not lately, it was this cold and distant Allison that had been making her way into his unconscious mind.

"Yeah, sure. Maybe. Night, then," Scott replied, deciding that it was better not to argue the point and that, after all, he was pretty tired. Rolling over to turn off the light on the desk beside his bed, Scott gave Isaac a tired smile and waited to make sure he was situated as well.

Right after he turned the light out, almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, Scott was asleep. He hadn't even realized he was that exhausted. Come to think of it, he wasn't simply exhausted, he felt more than that…almost physically weak. He hadn't really exerted himself all day, so why was he feeling so goddamn tired? He and Allison had just gone out to dinner…had a few drinks…argued some more…Before he could think on it any longer sleep came and dragged him under.

Isaac, however, did not succumb to sleep until hours later. He lay awake like this most nights, terrified of the nightmares that his sleep-filled hours would surely bring. Every time it was different—one night, he might wake up with a barely suppressed scream stuck in his throat, remembering the horrors that he had faced in the world of the supernatural. The next, it might be of his father towering over him, hand raised and eyes ablaze with wild and irrational anger.

On some occasions, he had even woken up thrashing around, prepared to yell at the top of his lungs to be let out, to please be let out, that he'd be good, that he'd get better grades, _just please let him out_, only to realize that he wasn't locked in a claustrophobic little box in his basement after all and that the darkness surrounding him was just a result of the night and not of being locked up by his father.

Scott had quickly discovered that Isaac suffered from nightmares, as his friend would always seem to wake up more tired than he'd been the night before, with dark circles under his eyes and a haunted look in his expression.

He had learned to grow used to the occasional frightened yell that Isaac would let out, jarring him out of his own slumber. Determined to help in any way he could, Scott had taken to comforting him after these episodes, when he would be woken up in the middle of the night by the screams resulting from a one of Isaac's particularly terrifying nightmares. He'd simply hold Isaac's hand and mutter words of comfort to him—just to let him know that he was there and that he was not alone—until he was sure his friend had drifted into sleep again.

Isaac seemed to melt into the warmth and familiarity of Scott's touch each time, relaxing him even through a haze of sleep and exhaustion.

And although he would never in a million years tell him, the feeling of Scott's gentle hands against his skin made his mind buzz and sent tiny shivers of pleasure down his spine.

As he lay awake, he busied himself with stealing glances at his peacefully sleeping friend, examining his boyish features.

There was no denying that Scott McCall was attractive, with his perfectly toned body and his handsome face. Even his imperfections, like the noticeable crookedness of his chiseled jaw line, only made him appear even more endearing. But there was more to it than that—it was the sheer openness in his expression, the genuine warmth in his eyes, the utter sincerity behind his words that had Isaac had fallen in love with.

_Love? What the hell is wrong with you? _Isaac thought to himself, disgusted by his own thoughts. And yet… and yet… what else could he describe it as? He had to admit, he did think of Scott in a ways that one surely wouldn't think about a best friend, let alone a brother.

Isaac didn't fool himself—he knew he was gay. He had known it for years, ever since…well, he really didn't like to think about it. He wasn't lying to Derek when he'd told him that his father hadn't always been "that way". No, he hadn't always been abusive and cruel. In fact, he could even remember a time when they'd had a perfectly healthy father-son relationship.

It had all come crashing down with a single, innocent kiss. Back when Isaac hadn't been an outcast at school, he had been good friends with a boy—Paul Connelly—in his math class. It had been the day before a huge test, and Paul had come over his house for a last-minute study session.

For weeks, Isaac had found himself feeling a growing attraction towards Paul, yet had been too shy and too humiliated to act on it. He supposed he had still been in the process of "finding himself," and wasn't quite sure he felt ready to acknowledge that he was attracted to someone of the same gender.

Paul had made the first move—he'd leaned over the notebooks and textbooks that had been strewn all over the floor of Isaac's room, and captured Isaac's mouth in a tentative kiss that had soon escalated into something much more passionate. After that, Isaac really had had no doubt as to where his sexual preferences lay.

They had been so wrapped up in each other that neither of the boys had heard the door to Isaac's room open, and it wasn't until Isaac felt himself being dragged roughly and painfully to his feet that he realized his father had entered the room.

What happened next had been a painful blur of insult after insult and blow after blow as his father screamed in his face and kicked the crap out of him. Paul had stood horrified watching the scene unfold before him, and finally, unsure of what to do and terrified for his own safety, had fled the Lahey house.

Nothing had been the same since that day. Paul would no longer talk to him, too afraid of what Isaac's father might do if he got involved with the boy. Isaac quickly became used to eating alone at lunch, often the subject of unkind whispers and not-so-discreet stares when he would turn up for school sporting some new bruise or injury.

His father seemed to have snapped, condemning Isaac's preferences as "unnatural." He rained insults onto his son daily, and was convinced that he could beat some sense into him. He became obsessed with "reforming" Isaac, expecting no less than perfect grades, perfect performance in lacrosse, perfect everything, and punishing his son severely when he failed to meet his ridiculous standards. He made Isaac feel ashamed of what he felt and of who he was attracted to.

Even with his father now dead and buried, Isaac mused, the man still had him under his control. After years of having the idea drilled into his head that what he felt was wrong, disgusting, disgraceful, and unnatural…it was hard not to feel dirty for liking another boy. Especially when that boy was someone who probably thought of him as a brother.

Still, he thought, his eyes drifting over to Scott, who was fast asleep in the bed across from him, he couldn't deny any longer that he had fallen hopelessly in love with the boy—and he really couldn't see any way he could help it. He hated himself for it.

He knew that Scott wouldn't judge him or treat him unkindly if he knew how Isaac felt—it simply wasn't in his nature. But what chance did he have with Scott, who was brave and selfless and caring and everything that Isaac wished he could be? Besides, for all he knew, Scott was as straight as an arrow. If his history with Allison was anything to go by, Isaac had no reason to believe that Scott was even the slightest bit attracted to men.

Sighing yet again, Isaac rolled over and finally succumbed to sleep, his conflicted thoughts still firing away in his troubled mind.

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"Scott. Scott! _Scott!_ _SCOTT GET THE FUCK UP OR WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"_

_Why the hell do I feel like I've been run over by a fucking train?_ Scott thought blearily as he opened his eyes and groaned at the strange heaviness in his limbs.

Isaac was standing over him, his expression a mixture of concern and annoyance. "Stiles is going to be here any minute to pick us up for school. You know how he gets about being late."

Scott groaned again and with what seemed like an incredible amount of effort, swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm up, I'm up…" he muttered, his voice coming out sounding weak and tired.

"Dude…are you okay? You look awful…" Isaac's voice trailed away as he appraised his friend, who was now on his feet and attempting to get ready, his movements oddly sluggish. He coughed and looked away pointedly as Scott pulled a clean shirt over his head— revealing for a moment his sculpted chest— and willed himself not to stare.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm fine…it's nothing…" Scott lied, pulling on a pair of jeans and making his way to the bathroom. As he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth, Scott took his own appearance in for the first time. There were dark bags under his eyes, his normally tanned face was pale and ashen, his arms and legs were shaky looking, and he looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks. All in all, he thought he rather looked like Isaac, after waking up from a night full of nightmares.

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness came over him and he gripped the edges of the sink to keep himself upright. Even after it passed, Scott felt even more inexplicably tired than before, and for a moment he couldn't even bring himself to move. A gentle hand rested itself on his shoulder, and he looked behind him to find Isaac watching him with nothing but concern in his eyes. "Scott…" he began.

"Okay, okay. On second thought, maybe I'm not fine. I feel like shit, actually." It took all his strength to move his heavy feet out the bathroom door and towards his bed, even with Isaac supporting part of his weight and preventing him from falling on his face as he stumbled forward.

As soon as he made it back to his bed, Scott laid down upon it and closed his eyes. "I think I'd better stay home today, Isaac. Maybe I'll show up for the game later if I feel any better. I honestly don't know what's come over me," Scott mumbled,

Isaac nodded, then remembering that Scott wouldn't be able to see the movement with his eyes shut, added, "Alright. That's probably for the best. I'll let your mom know you'll be staying home today on my way out then."

"No need. My mom's already at work, remember? She has an 24 hour shift today."

"Oh, right. Must've slipped my mind...Are you sure you'll be alright here on your own then?" Even as he said it, Isaac felt a strange feeling of reluctance leaving Scott alone in such a state settle over him, and a protective side of him he hadn't even known existed forced itself to the forefront of his mind.

"I'll be fine Isaac, really. I think I can handle myself," Scott replied, not unkindly, but with a hint of annoyance at the suggestion that he might be too weak. Just then, a horn blared from outside, signifying Stiles presence outside, and that he was quickly becoming impatient.

With one last worried glance at his friend, Isaac sighed and made his way out the door, pausing in the doorway and promising Scott that if he didn't show up for the game, he'd make sure to come right home to check on him. Receiving only a noncommittal grunt in reply, Isaac shook his head and rushed out the door into Stiles' battered old jeep.

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As the school day dragged on, Scott laid at home in his bed, practically unable to move from exhaustion and flitting in and out of consciousness.

_Oh god, I feel really awful. How did I get so sick all of a sudden?_ As Scott thought back through a haze of memories to what he did the day before that could have put him in such a state, another thought suddenly struck him.

_Can werewolves even _get_ sick? _After all, wasn't he supposed to be virtually invincible? Hadn't he survived a gun-shot wound, being stabbed in the stomach, being punched and kicked and…hadn't his super-acute immune system always healed him shortly afterward?

With dawning horror, he realized that the only thing that could make him feel this way, that could have such a lasting effect on him…would have to have been made specifically to do so, to counteract the supernatural. And who else did he know that had access to such materials, besides the Argents?

A piece of a memory floated to the forefront of his mind, of being at Allison's house last night…of Allison smiling at him over his drink, pushing it lightly into his hands and telling him she made it special just for him…to drink up…Oh god, _oh god_….it had seemed like an innocent enough gesture…after all, how menacing could a single drink be?

But looking back, he remembered thinking that the drink did taste a bit odd…only he hadn't mentioned anything, not wanting to hurt Allison's feelings. Was it possible that there was something more sinister lurking behind her shy smile? Now that he thought of it…she had seemed a bit off last night. Hell, she'd seemed a bit off for months now. But this? Drugging him? Was she really capable of that? And what exactly had she slipped into his drink, anyway? Wolfsbane?

_Oh no. No, no, no, no_. The truth came crashing down around him with terrible force, leaving him breathless and stunned. What was she planning on doing with him? Frantically, Scott tried to sit up, but found, to his horror, that he couldn't even lift a single finger. Isaac was still at school, and his mom wouldn't be home till late at night. He was alone, paralyzed, helpless, and completely vulnerable.

As if on cue, the door to his room slowly opened, and from his position on the bed he could just make out the familiar black hunting boots. Allison crossed the room slowly, gloatingly, and came to a stop next to Scott's bed, looking down upon his weak and defenseless form. His eyes followed her moments warily as his heart filled with icy dread. The last thing he saw before he finally slipped into unconsciousness was the merciless smirk forming on Allison's face, and the bag coming down over his head.

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Isaac's entire day consisted of a rollercoaster of emotions ranging between mild worry to complete panic. At first he was simply worried about his Scott's health, but as the day progressed, he was plagued with the feeling that something just wasn't right. He couldn't seem to shake the feeling, and by the end of the day had made up his mind. Without even bothering to tell Coach Finstock that he'd be missing the game, and with only a quick explanation to Stiles as to where he was going, Isaac set off to the McCall house as fast as his legs would carry him.

As soon as he got there, he knew something was wrong. Something just seemed...off. Bolting up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, he flung open the door to Scott's room, and found the bed completely empty, the sheets crinkled and disturbed. With his sensitive sense of smell, Isaac detected a scent different from Scott's own lingering in the air of the stuffy room. It was not quite familiar, but not quite unknown, either. Eyes widening in realization and cold terror, he finally placed it as the perfume that he had sometimes smelled lingering on Scott's clothes after a night out with Allison.

He stood paralyzed for a few minutes before sinking to his knees, his mind trying to grasp this sudden realization. He had long since suspected that Allison was using Scott, but not for this. Never for this. And what was this, exactly? What was she planning on doing with him? Isaac knew, with sudden certainty, that Allison had taken him…and he knew just where to look to find him. Derek had told him about the secret room located in the basement of the Argent house…the room that Kate had once held Derek captive in, chained up to an electric shock machine. It was, to put it mildly, a torture room of sorts.

His stomach rolled uncomfortably, and for a second he thought he might be sick. Was that what Allison was doing with Scott right now? He shook his head slowly. He couldn't think like that—he had to be strong for Scott right now. He had to protect the one person who mattered most to him in his screwed-up little world. Finally, he stood up and exited the house, steeled himself for what he would have to do, and sprinted his way to the Argent household, following Scott's familiar scent the whole way there.

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Scott was past the point of crying out in pain. At first he had begged, pleaded, attempted to reason with Allison, trying in vain to get her to snap out of the manic state she seemed to be in and return the girl that he had known and loved. He had been convinced that a shred of that old Allison must still exist, no matter how far down it was buried, and that he could will her to come to reason.

Looking into her heartless and unfeeling eyes now, however, Scott realized that the old Allison did not exist anymore. There was no warmth, no love, not even recognition in her cold and steady gaze. Isaac had been right, but the extent to which he had been right was greater than either of them ever could have imagined. The girl he loved was dead, and in her place stood the product of a girl who had seen too much sadness, too much grief, too many family members die, and had completely snapped.

Idly, he wondered if anyone would find him anytime soon. Surely they had noticed that he had been taken by now? He didn't even know how much time had passed since he had been sharply awoken in this hell-hole, his hands chained to the ceiling, with an electric shock that seemed to cause every nerve in his body to scream out in pain. Allison seemed determined to break his resolve—applying shock after agonizing shock into Scott's vulnerable form and pausing every so often to make a scathing remark or cut him with her knife, cutting the same part over and over as soon as the skin began to mend itself, determined to leave a scar.

"How does it feel Scott? Does it hurt? It kind of hurt when Derek murdered my mother too, you know. Honestly, are you that dim? Did you really think I'd forgotten about my promise to make someone pay for her death? Did you really not notice how I've been playing with you all this time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?" Allison snarled, brandishing her hunting knife and tracing it along Scott's bare chest, slicing through the skin and eliciting a whimper of pain from the helpless boy.

"Nothing matters anymore. Don't you get it? All I want is for someone to pay. And they will. You'll all pay. You're the reason she's dead—every single one of you damn werewolves. And I'm going to make you all suffer. Starting with you, Scott," she spat viciously in his face, her normally beautiful features distorted with rage.

Scott's world was a blur of pain—it seemed to blot out everything else, consume his every thought, make every cell on his body scream for mercy. He just wanted it to end—oh god, he just wanted the pain to end. It seemed Allison had seen this acceptance, this defeat in his eyes, as the corners of her mouth twisted upward in a sinister and heartless smirk.

"I think I've had enough fun for today. Well, goodbye Scott. I've had…fun with you." Allison retrieved her crossbow from the ground, loaded it, and pulled her back, preparing to release the arrow that would be the end of Scott McCall. She aimed straight at his heart, and as her steady, unforgiving gaze bore into him, Scott felt his own eyes close and his shoulders slump in defeat as he waited for the inevitable…and waited…and waited…

Finally, after several moments had passed and Scott still hadn't felt the arrow that he'd been expecting pierce his heart, he cautiously opened his eyes and nearly fainted in relief at the sight before him.

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Isaac slipped into the Argent home undetected—which proved to be a rather simple task, seeing as Allison's father was not home—and had immediately made his way to the basement, frantically searching for the room that Derek had described to him months ago.

He had been stopped in his tracks when his ultra-sensitive hearing detected a small whimper that he had immediately placed as Scott's behind the large metal doors at the end of the hall. His stomach churning and his heart hammering against his chest, he wasted no time in wrenching the door open with his werewolf-enhanced strength. He wasn't sure if it was just the adrenaline pumping through his veins in his absolute need to reach Scott or something else entirely, but he was able to do so as noiselessly as possible. Cautiously, he slinked further into the room towards the two figures hidden in the back.

Evidently, he had made it just in time, as he observed Allison pick up her bow, her back still turned to him, and take careful aim at Scott's heart. His self-restraint broke as anger pulsed through his veins, and with lightening quick reflexes, he tackled Allison to the ground, promptly snapped her bow in half, and with a ferocious growl, closed his hands around her throat.

"Don't—you—dare—touch—him—ever—again!" Isaac snarled, his face inches away from Allison's, her fingers tightening around her windpipe as Isaac vision was blurred with red.

"Isaac…Isaac stop! Isaac don't—don't kill her. Just…just tie her up. Leave her for father to deal with. She needs help. She's not—she's not right in the head," Scott muttered weakly, squeezing his eyes shut again. Despite the pain, despite everything…he simply couldn't bring himself to hate her. Because this _wasn't her_. This was someone who had been driven to the point of insanity by grief.

"Scott…Scott she nearly—she nearly killed you. Look what she did to you. Look—" Isaac's voice choked with emotion, and he relinquished his grip on Allison's throat and buried his face in his hands. How could he argue with Scott when his friend was in such a position? He would do what he asked—albeit reluctantly. His hands itched to choke the life out of the girl who had nearly killed the boy he loved, the only person that seemed to matter in his life.

He resolved to knock her unconscious, and as soon as he finished tying her up, leaving a rather colorful note behind for Mr. Argent for when he found her, he immediately rushed to Scott's side, swiftly breaking the chains that held him dangling in place. Before Scott could crash to the ground, Isaac caught his friend in his arms and held him close.

He nearly succumbed to his tears as he took in Scott's frail and shaking form, and the way that Scott seemed to flinch away from his touch, as if he expected anything that came in contact with his skin to hurt him. Isaac simply held him close as the minutes passed by, running his hands through Scott's hair and murmuring soothingly until his friend ceased shaking. Isaac's heart nearly broke as he took in the sheer pain reflected in Scott's eyes, and was startled when he felt his friend finally relax into his embrace and bury his head into Isaac's shoulder.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you…" Scott repeated over and over, searching in vain for greater words to describe his gratitude towards Isaac. Isaac seemed to understand, and with Scott still in his arms, said "Come on, let's get out of this place."

"I don't think I can walk…" Scott muttered, embarrassed. His legs were still shaking far too much from the phantom pain of the electric shocks he had been subjected to support his weight.

"Well, obviously not, idiot," Isaac teased, determined to remain strong for his friend, who needed him more than anything right now. "I wasn't going to let you walk back anyway. I'll carry you, alright? Don't worry, I won't let you fall."

Scott lifted his head up and looked up to meet Isaac's gentle gaze. Unexpectedly, he felt his heart skip a beat as he looked into his friend's eyes. He offered Isaac a genuine, tentative smile. "Wouldn't dream of it. I—I trust you."

With this simple statement, Isaac felt warmth flood his chest and fill him with pride. Here he was, a kid who used to not even be able to protect himself from his own father, protecting the person that mattered most to him in the world. And Scott _trusted_ him. Even after being betrayed by Allison.

Grinning, Isaac gripped Scott closer to him and carried him back home. By the time they returned to the McCall house, night had fallen. Somewhere along the way, Scott had fallen asleep in his arms. Determined not to wake his friend, as soon as he made it back to their room, he laid Scott down on his bed and walked back over to his own.

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For what seemed like the first time in his life, Isaac fell asleep almost instantly. This relief was short-lived, however, as he was woken in the middle of the night by a tormented scream. It took him a few moments to realize that the scream was not his own, and that it had come from the boy sleeping fitfully in the bed across from him.

Suddenly it clicked—Scott was having a nightmare. Cautiously, Isaac made his way across the room and knelt in front of Scott's bed, as Scott murmured frantically in his sleep. "No, no, no, stop. Stop! No more, please!" he whimpered, tossing and turning in his bed. At a loss for what to do, Isaac grabbed Scott's hand and began rubbing soothing circles into his palm, as Scott did for him whenever he woke up from one of his own nightmares.

Slowly, Scott's eyelids fluttered open. "Isaac? Is that you?"

Isaac merely squeezed Scott's hand in response. He heard Scott sigh, and then roll over to face him, so that their faces were only inches apart.

"I'm sorry for waking you. I was dreaming about…well, I guess it's pretty obvious, huh?" Scott muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Isaac shrugged and replied "Don't be ridiculous. It's nice to be the one providing comfort for a change. Usually you're the one helping me cope with a nightmare. I don't feel so useless anymore."

He had said it lightheartedly, but Scott sat up on the bed to face him, eyeing him seriously. Looking into Isaac's gentle and concerned eyes, Scott said slowly, "You know Isaac, I've been thinking. You know how I was always so unhappy with Allison the past few months we were back together, before I knew she was, well…"

"A raging psychopath?" Isaac offered helpfully.

"Well, yeah, I guess that fits. Anyway, the more I think about it, the more I've come to realize that as much as it was the way she was acting that caused problems with our…relationship…it was also me."

Isaac's heartbeat seemed to quicken and suddenly his palms felt sweaty. Could it be—? No, surely not…

"What do you mean? What was wrong with you?" he stammered out.

"I still loved Allison, don't get me wrong…but I think…well, I think that my mind might have been on someone else. I mean, all this time I've been writing my feelings off as entirely brotherly… of course I'd feel a sense of protectiveness towards you…of course I'd want to comfort you after every nightmare, hold you close…of course you were on my mind more often than not—we live together, after all…but looking back at tonight, well…I don't think my feelings for you have been completely brother at all. Having you hold me after rescuing me from Allison, I've never felt safer with anyone in my entire life. And I never thought it could feel so nice to be held like that before. I mean, sure, I've hugged friends before, but…but I don't think 'just a friend' would be so tempted to do—to do this."

Scott leaned forward and captured a shell-shocked Isaac's lips in a tentative kiss. His heart hammering wildly and half-convinced he was still in a dream, Isaac smiled against the feeling of Scott's lips and felt the corner of Scott's mouth tug up into a smile against his own. Isaac deepened the kiss, running his fingers through Scott's messy hair and cautiously running his tongue along Scott's lower lip, eliciting a tiny gasp of pleasure from the other boy.

Finally, after what seemed like hours later, they broke apart. Scott grinned and Isaac returned the smile, a sudden, newfound confidence pulsing through his veins.

"You know what Scott? Let me show you the proper way to comfort someone after a nightmare. Lie down and move over."

Scott immediately obeyed, still grinning from ear to ear, eagerly eyeing Isaac's movements. Isaac laid down next to him, and after finally wriggling into a comfortable position, wrapped his arms around Scott and held him close. Scott could practically feel the warmth radiating from Isaac's body and his steady breathing by his ear, as well as the rhythmic beating of his heart.

"Hmm. I think I could get used to this," Scott said, a smile evident in his voice.

"So no more nightmares tonight, then?" Isaac replied cheekily.

"No, not with you here. I feel safe with you," Scott replied sleepily, and not long after, for the second time that day, fell asleep in the comfort of Isaac Lahey's strong arms.


End file.
